


Kiss with a Fist

by editingatwork



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Oneshot, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 07:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14612922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/editingatwork/pseuds/editingatwork
Summary: Finding your soulmate because of a fight is something Kent figured happened to OTHER people, not him.





	Kiss with a Fist

Both teams call for a time-out. They kind of have to. After what just happened, everyone in the arena needs time regroup.

Kent is escorted to the trainers room in a daze. He can’t stop rubbing the blaze of kaleidoscopic colors on his wrist. He’s so used to streaks of black on his skin that the brilliant sapphire and amber and lavender and spring green look fake—like paint splattered accidentally, not a sign of a soulmate’s first touch.

He knows that down the hall, the Falconers’ trainers are mopping up the mess Kent made of their guy’s face. While the Aces trainer fusses over Kent’s knee—since he went down on it pretty hard—Kent tries not to think about the splash of color he left on his opponent’s mouth, which had appeared the moment Kent’s fist connected in a punch.

There’s a rolling sensation in his stomach. He always thought the moment would be sweet. Surprising, maybe shocking, but something warm and happy. A flood of relief to finally have that person who was his own.

Plenty of athletes in contact sports had soulmarks in the shapes of hands and fists and accidentally-on-purpose bruises. More than a few hockey players had black outlines of knuckles on their faces, necks, shoulders, hands. It wasn’t ideal finding a soulmate in a moment of violence, but it happened.

Kent just never thought it would happen to  _him_.

Mashkov had been helping him off the ice. Kent realizes that now, looking back. Mashkov had been helping Kent off the ice, and in the heat of the moment—a sudden goal, hollers from the players and the crowd about goalie interference, guys shoving each other while the air simmered with the potential for a fight—it had felt like an attack.

The only attack had been Kent’s fist on Mashkov’s face.

Christ, Kent barely  _knows_  Alexei Mashkov. He doesn’t even remember the guy’s number.

Soon the trainers are going to finish their fussing. Then, Kent will have to make a choice. He’ll have to decide whether to go back on the ice and play ‘til the buzzer, or arrange to meet Mashkov and...talk.

Kent vehemently does not want to talk about it. He also refuses to miss the game.

He chooses to pull his helmet back on and go back down the tunnel and onto the bench. The game has already resumed.

It’s a shock and a relief to see Mashkov across the ice on the Falconers’ bench. Mashkov has a black eye and a puffy upper lip and an explosion of color across his mouth and the side of his cheek.

Their eyes meet across the ice. It’s an acknowledgement, one that Kent understands. Their teams come first. A new soulmark can’t compete with that. After the game—hell, maybe after the playoffs—they’ll figure out what this bullshit means for them. Whether they want to try to make it mean anything at all.

That’s later. First, there’s hockey.

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from my [tumblr](http://punmasterkentparson.tumblr.com/).


End file.
